


The Heart's Storage

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-22
Updated: 2007-06-05
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Facing death, Justin is taken off by a Brian on a spontanious road trip.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

“Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.”  
George Bernard Shaw 

I remember reading the quote by George Bernard Shaw in my high school yearbook. It was a senior quote by one of the kids who graduated in my class and I always thought it odd he’d chosen a quote about death. When I got my year book, a few days after waking up from my coma, I remember staring at it and wondering if it was at all an irony that I read that after nearly dying myself. 

While I know nothing about death, I know one thing. When you die they pack up your shit and put it in storage, or if you have a will they give it to the designated family members. If you’re famous they keep it for a while and then auction it off years after you death, like they did to Jackie O. 

I’m not famous. I don’t have a will. My stuff will go to storage. 

I’m sure that it sounds harsh to people who don’t know, but since I was diagnosed I’ve been packing my own things. I figure it will be easier on those I leave behind, especially my mom and Brian. So, one by one, small things of mine would go into a box and down into the storage space Brian got as long as he lived in the loft. Less of my things were in the place and it started to seem empty. 

Brian hadn’t noticed really until the crayola box disappeared. 

“Justin?” He asked, coming out of the bedroom after having just walked past me and doing a double take at the empty table, where the machine had once made its home. 

I lifted my head up from the couch and looked at him briefly and quickly replaced it on the pillow when it seemed too heavy to carry. 

He sat down beside me. 

“Where is it?” He asked, gently rubbing my calf.   
It felt good and soothing as I looked into his sorrowful eyes and searched for the right words to not make the inevitable too real for his fragile heart. I say this statement simply because it is to me a fragile piece of glass, I walk a fine tight rope with it in my hands. If I slip and fall it will shatter and he very well may die with me. Brian isn’t used to letting anyone in. Brian doesn’t let anyone in. And my short time in his life is slowly starting to prove why he didn’t. Let someone in and you’ll just end up hurt. 

If they don’t get bored with you, they’ll die instead. 

“I figured it would be easier to do now when I still have most of my energy and not later when I’m confined to bed and can’t even blink.” I said, brushing off the fact that it was a completely defeatist attitude.

“Why do you talk like that?” Brian asked. 

“Why should I lie to myself?” I replied, with a little more venom than I intended to spew his way. 

He looked at me for a long time, his eyes boring into my soul and making my heart burn. And I met his gaze until I gave up the game of chicken and retreated to looking at the couch. 

“Justin… please don’t give up… please,” He begged. Not silently but to me. Brian Kinney begged me to live.

“If I was giving up I would have killed myself.” I replied, not meeting his gaze. 

Realizing that this conversation was getting us nowhere, he pulled me close and held me close against his chest. I wanted to cry. I couldn’t get the tears out. As he held me I snuggled close against his chest and listened. I could hear the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart and knew for maybe that brief moment, despite the thing inside me that was going to take my life, I was safe in his arms. I was his. He would protect me from whatever he could. He was my hero. He was my gay Crusader. He was Rage. And the tears came. 

He pulled away and lifted my chin with his index finger. I sniffled. 

“Let’s get out of here.” He said. 

“Where will we go?” I asked, watching him get up and head to the bedroom. I didn’t move.

He was throwing clothes messily into his suitcase, and then he grabbed mine and went about throwing in mine. I just watched this un-Brian like behavior in a shocked awe. Something was definitely up. 

“Who cares where? Let’s just go away from here, away from this two-bit burg and wherever the road takes us. Let’s get in the car and drive forever.” 

I stared at him. He’d lost his fucking mind. Get in the car and drive forever? He must have been reading my mind because he came over with the bags and took my hand, pulling me up from the couch and into his arms. I looked up, into those amazing hazel eyes that had me enthralled since the first night. 

“You’re serious aren’t you?” 

“As a heart attack.” 

I nodded and grabbed my bag and put on my shoes. “Let’s go.” 

It was a warm summer evening so Brian took the top down on the ‘vette as we drove down the highway with no real purpose and no given destination. Brian and I road away from Pittsburgh, not looking back, with the wind in our hair and the song of the evening life lulling us into a calm relaxation; we didn’t worry about anything other than the road in front of us, and the new adventure we were about to embark on. I stared out, watching the trees and buildings and the landscape rush passed me. I closed my eyes and just listened. The warm gentle breeze caressed my skin, making it feel soft and light as if something was telling me everything was going to be fine. I let tears flow down my cheek, closing my eyes and laying back against the seat. I was, for the first time in my young life, at peace. 

Brian turned on the radio. I knew the song and hummed along. Something Corporate filled our ears and they dreamy sounds of the piano and guitar made the night seem more magical. As I listened I could hear Brian humming too. A deep, baritone angelic sound admitted from his lips and I listened so hard that I practically willed my heart to silence for his music. 

_Let’s get crazy, talk about our big plans. Places that you’re going. Places that I haven’t been. Build my walls up concrete Castle. Keep this kingdom free of hassle yeah…_

He pulled into a little gas station to fill up and grab some munchies. I stayed contently lounging in the passenger side, listening to my soothing music and being one with the emotion of the nature around me. When he came back I was singing along, without realizing it. My mind a million miles away in another place where the music was taking me, where I was lost to him; so lost that I didn’t notice when we began to drive again. 

_Taste the saline rolling down your cheekbone, tell me that you’re alone, tell me on the telephone, feel your heart it breaks within your chest now try and get some rest now sleeps not coming easy for awhile, child. But I hear a sound echo in the emptiness; all around what you can’t change is loneliness, look at what you’ve found I’m falling down._

The last thing I remember hearing was the word down before the blissful darkness of slumber engulfed my consciousness and took me to the land of dreams. I remember the smooth ride lulling me deeper in as if the car was saying ‘rest now Sunshine because you’re safe’. And I listened because I felt safe. I knew in my heart that this journey away from home was right for us whether or not it was a one-way trip for me. And if it was, a deep part of me hoped that Brian would be able to make the trek home alone, knowing that I was all right in my eternity. 

When I came back from dreamland I was in a hotel bed. It was pretty obvious to me that Brian had carried me to the hotel room he decided we should stop at, since I had no memory of waking up between when I dozed off in the Vette and finding my niche in this bed. I sat up and noticed Brian curled up beside me absentmindedly flipping through stations on the elderly little television set. He was always the type to flip constantly, never having the attention span to watch something for more than a few minutes before finding a better option. He looked over at me. 

“I couldn’t drive anymore tonight, and you were out like a light… so I decided to stop,” He said. 

A smile crept onto my face as I scooted over, laying with my head in his lap and watching as brief images appeared on the screen for split seconds before he changed the channel again. Finally I was able to convince him to rent a movie on the pay-per-view. We got Gothika. Not scary. But we watched it all the way through because it had a good suspenseful plot. Brian seemed to enjoy it and really that’s all that matters.   
When it was over, lights went out and we both slid back into slumber, my head on his chest, my body nestled under his protective arm. I felt good there in the gross little motel room. I couldn’t wait to see where our adventure would lead us. Thunder rolled in overhead, as I closed my eyes I could here the beginning of rain on the roof our pit stop. I sighed deeply to myself enjoying the sound. 

In the morning I woke to the sound of Brian fussing with a map. I yawned, stretched and woke to a bag of donuts in front of me on the table. I smirked wondering when Brian had started eating donuts. He had his back to me as he leaned over the little table with the map spread out as if he was a boats captain plotting out the course of action to reach our final destination. Final destination. 

“Did you get the kind with the filling?” I asked digging into the bag. 

Brian replied with his mouth full, without turning. “Custard or strawberry goo, take your pick. What do you think of going to New Orleans, and then to Vegas? Arizona, San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco…”

I laughed taking out on of the sugary ‘strawberry goo’ filled donuts. “Okay Brian sure.” 

“These are all places you should go before…” He got quiet and finally said: ”…Before we go back to the Pitts.” 

I came over, wrapped my arms around his waist and nodded peeking my head around so that I could see the map he’d drawn out. He wrapped on arm around me, which couldn’t possibly have been comfortable for him, but I don’t think he gave a shit about comfort at the moment. Now I think he just wanted to have his arm around me. 

“We can go to all those places.” I told him.   
He nodded. 

I pulled away from our hug after a few minutes and turned on the TV propping myself on a pillow at the foot of the bed. I flipped through channels and came across some SNL reruns. Brian went to go shower as I lost myself in the mindless sketch comedy that hadn’t appealed to him since John Belushi was on the show. As I sat there I was laughing away the tears that had begun in to well up in my eyes at Brian’s hesitation to talk about my inevitable fate. As I laughed, the tears started to flow because I no longer had any control over the muscles in my face. The last thing I wanted Brian to see when he came out was my mess of tears. 

I got up and wiped my face, then slowly crept into the bathroom, where Brian had the dingy shower curtain drawn closed and I could see the silhouette of his perfect form as the water trickled down him, cleansing away this nasty motel room. He hadn’t heard my entrance and was still letting the warm water rinse his hair, so I leaned in and yelled as loud as I possibly could: 

“I DRIVE A DODGE STRATUS!” 

“JESUS CHRIST!” Came the reply, along with the sound of bottles hitting linoleum. 

He pulled back the sopping curtain and glared at me intensely, the bottles at his feet and rubbing his head. I assume he hit it on the showerhead and try to look sympathetic. Before I could say a word he yanked me into the shower, still in my clothes, and pins me against the tiles. I smirked, my heart pounding a bit with adrenaline as he leaned in and kissed me hard, passionately and sensually removed my clothes. I had no choice now but to roll over and take my punishment like a man. 

After leaving our mark on our little room in the cruddy motel. We headed back out onto our adventure. I didn’t know what state we were in, where we’d be next or how long it would take to get there. The only thing I knew is that I was safe with Brian. 

I popped in a CD and leaned back into the seat, my hand resting on the door, hanging out the window. We had the top down so the breeze was nice and relaxing. Just as I was about to fall asleep I felt a drop of liquid land on my forehead. Then another. It was raining. I sat up and watched Brian turn on his blinker and start to change lanes, pulling over to the side of the disserted road and putting on the emergency lights. I laughed loudly as he cursed, putting the top up on the Vette. When he was finished, I was still laughing and he gave me a dirty look. It only made me laugh harder. 

“Twat,” he muttered. 

“I told you it looked like rain!” 

In the car the radio leaves me searching for your star, constellation of frustration riding high. Singing my thoughts back to me and watching heart ache on TV. But as you sleep and no one is listening I will lift you off your feet I’ll keep you from sinking don’t you wake up yet cause soon I’ll be leaving you… 

Brian turned the CD off and made me change it for the fifth time. Every time a song mentioned something that could remotely be considered about death he made me change the CD. I didn’t even think of putting in Yellowcard because I knew ‘The View From Heaven’ might send him driving off a cliff as he tried to focus on tossing the disc out the window. I actually doubt that since I’m sure there aren’t any cliffs in Kentucky.   
Or were we in Tennessee? 

Along the way I’d been in and out of sleep so much (just from boredom) that I couldn’t for the life of me keep track of where we were. I knew that at one point we’d stopped for dinner in Ohio. And I knew at one point a I saw a ‘Welcome to Kentucky’ sign and heard Brian say ‘Where we can marry our cousins!’. There was no understatement to the declaration he’d made before we left about it being just the road and us. Literally, it was just the road and us. 

"Good god Shelbyville, why would we want to marry our cousins? Because they’re so attractive.” I quoted The Simpson’s. 

“You’ve spent far too much time with Michael,” Brian said trying to mock disgust. 

“Let’s play the license plate game!” I said, perking up in my chair. 

“Someone’s feeling better.” He mused. 

He said that because shortly after going to a Subway I started to get the nausea that frequently plagues me since my diagnosis. But at that time it was gone and I’d decided to make this drive less boring and less of the deafening silence that road with us after turning off Something Corporate. He mentioned to me how unfair it was to him that he needed to watch the road, not watch license plates. So I told him to pull over.   
When he did, I got out of the car and sat my ass down on the hood. He gave me on of his irritated glares because I was probably scratching the crap out of it with my jeans. I didn’t care.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Arkansas!” I screamed. 

He looked at me dumbfounded for a minute before sighing, giving in and joining me on the hood of the Corvette. He watched me for a good minute, I continued to scream out state names of cars that I saw driving along the highway we were on and finally he shook his head, looking back out to the road. 

“Minnesota!” He smirked. “You are so paying for the paint job if my hood is scratched.” 

A few hours and two cans of Sour Cream and Onion Pringles later, we arrived at a Holiday Inn Express. I was utterly confused as to the name express. Why was it an express? When we checked in I thought of asking the woman behind the desk, who was totally a fag-hag wannabe, what made this Holiday Inn an express as apposed to a regular Holiday Inn. But I thought better of it because the look in Brian’s eyes hinted that he wanted to make this quick, so we could make with the fucking in our room. 

I was shocked to discover that his intention wasn’t to toss me down and stick his hot hard throbbing member in my rectum. His intention was to get down into some trunks and hit the hot tub. I didn’t mind the dip myself, since I was a little stiff from sleeping in the car. I wasn’t stiff in a positive life affirming way. 

“Do you sleep faster here?” I asked him as we walked in our trunks to the pool. 

“What are you babbling about?” he looked at me with one of his trademark-annoyed looks. 

“Well it’s a Holiday Inn Express. Does that mean you sleep faster than you would at a hotel… or a regular Holiday Inn?” I asked genuinely. 

“You know, sometimes I think I’d have a lot in common with Nick Lachey.” He smirked, slipping into the vacant hot tub, and immediately looking relaxed. 

“Oh no Mr. Kinney, you did NOT just compare me to Jessica Simpson!” I got in and splashed him. 

That was when he decided to play mature older man. He gave me a look after the water hit his chest and then leaned back against the tiles. The sheer satisfaction of relaxation that melted over his features made me smile. I hadn’t seen him relaxed in quite sometime, and it was a welcome change. 

I watched him sit there for a good long time. I looked over the contours of his body. Every line, every crease, every definition of muscle was a new wonder to me. I was gazing on the body of a god. His sun kissed skin was shimmering as if under a holy light with the droplets of water that ran slowly, sensually down his chest, along his nipples and over his firm abs. I could feel the drool forming at the corner of my lips. I felt my breath get heavy. I wanted him to take me. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him there now. 

I moved over toward him and kissed him hard, then let it linger on down his neck and over his left breast, before ending with a sensual lick around his hardening nipple. He tilted his head up and looked at me with a devilish smirk and I felt a smile creep across my face. 

“Fuck me,” I said, heavily, raspy.

“With pleasure,” Came the reply. 

Before I could say another word, he pulled me close so I straddled him and shoved his throbbing member into my waiting hole. I let a small whimper escape my lips. As he inserted himself into me, he spit the wrapper for the condom onto the concrete floor. I didn’t even remember him reaching across the deck and taking out of his shirt pocket. I didn’t even remember us getting naked to be honest. He thrust hard and I moaned, partly from pain and mostly from pleasure as I felt his familiar manhood make room for it’s self inside me. He was grunting a little as I began to ride him, holding on with my arms around his shoulders, my eyes closed, shut tight so that I could only have visions of this moment. 

I started to dig into his back, and it made him thrust a little harder, and I rode a little faster. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to hold on to him forever. I wanted him inside me forever. The faster I rode the harder he became and when he let out a cry I felt his cock release inside the small plastic tube that separated it from my flesh. I let out a cry of my own. But it wasn’t from satisfaction. 

Okay it was part satisfaction and mostly shock. I opened my eyes as Brian came inside me and up on one of the balconies over looking the pool area stood a little old lady with a small fluffy dog. I felt the flush in my face as the blood ran to into it sheer embarrassment. Brian must have felt my terror, felt my heart rate pick up even more as our chests we pressed together. He turned to look and follow my gaze. 

And in true Brian fashion he didn’t get embarrassed. Brian likes it when people watch us have sex. Especially people unfamiliar with our world. He smiled up at the woman and then gave her a wave. 

“Good evening Ma’am, I hope you enjoyed the show.” He said with his patented snark. 

She said something under her breath before stalking back into her room, and closing the curtains. Brian turned to meet my eyes and we stared at each other for a long moment. I felt the little chuckle begin in his chest and before long we were both laughing. I was laughing so hard I was in tears. It eventually turned into crying. Emotions tended to get the better of me lately. I could be laughing so hard I peed one minute, and completely obliterated with sadness the next.   
Weird shit happens when you face mortality. 

Brian held me and whispered to me sweet soft hushes, and told me everything was going to be okay. I believed him and snuggled against him as he rubbed my back and kept whispering soft encouragement to me. I liked seeing this new side of Brian. I’d had a brief glimpse of it after the bashing, but this time the supportive, helpful loving Brian was almost always present. I rested against him, I listened to his heart beat in a steady, relaxing rhythm and before I knew it, everything was dark. 

I woke up in the hotel bed the next morning; Brian’s arms were wrapped around me protectively. I really hated this falling asleep without realizing it shit. 

After another few hours on the road, we pulled into the parking lot of our hotel in New Orleans. I stepped out of the car and stretched as I looked around at my new surroundings. The south was way different from Pittsburgh. The hotel Brian picked was right on the water and there was one of those old fashioned riverboats parked at the dock. I looked over to where Brian would have been standing if he’d shared in my awestruck haze but he was already heading inside to the hotel lobby.

When I walked inside the massive hotel, I felt like I’d gone back about a hundred years. While outside it looked modern and typical of a city, on the inside it was like a giant antique. Gold tones and creams with wood and yellows, lace patterns and glass were everywhere in this enormous lobby. This was only the lobby? There was fine art everywhere, Monet and Rembrandt were on every wall I looked at. It was like I’d died and gone to Italy or something. It was an artists paradise in that lobby. I looked around at all the paintings while Brian checked into our room at the front desk and the bell hop loaded our bags onto one of those rolling things.

“We’re in room 1029.” Brian said behind me while I examined a Monet.

I jumped because he scared the crap out of me. And I don’t mean in the literal sense, there wasn’t anything in my pants. He laughed at me though, when I jumped. I turned and glared. The look on his face was adorable, and knowing Brian he’d at that description.

“C’mon Sunshine, I need a fucking shower. I wreak like ass.” He said heading for the elevators.

“Yeah, you’re telling me. I almost died of suffocation because there was no clean air in that cramped little corvette.” I replied.

Brian stopped dead in his tracks. I didn’t realize what I’d said until he turned and looked at me with an expression I hadn’t seen since the parking garage when he was trying to help me remember the bashing. His face was pale, I could see the slightest hint of tears brimming in his eyes. Immediately I felt like an asshole.

“Brian?” I asked.

“Don’t… please… don’t joke about things like that.” He said softly, I barely heard him.

I nodded and we started back into the elevator. The large doors shut on us inside and I felt immediately as if I were trapped. I can’t explain what happened, but my throat tightened. I couldn’t breathe and I felt like everything was closing in on me and the world was collapsing around me in this tiny elevator. I started gasping for air. I was having a complete panic attack. My last panic attack was at Gus’ birthday party after I got bashed. I didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it though, because the world went dark.

Florescent lights are killer on your eyes when your head is pounding so hard you think maybe your heart traded places with your brain. After opening my eye I immediately closed them because the lights were so harsh and bright n my brain. Oh darkness, sweet darkness.

“Justin?” Brian’s worried voice registered through my ears. I opened my eyes again.

He’d turned off the lights and instinctively I knew I was in a hospital. If the tell-tale signs of the rough blankets, stiff white sheets, plastic gown and the IV in my arm weren’t enough to make me realize it, there was the ever present and incredibly annoying beeping coming from a monitor that made absolutely sure my heart was beating.

Brian’s voice cracked. “You scared the shit out of me.”

I looked at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened… I just..”

“Baby?” Brian moved closer to me and took my hand.

“I just..” I swallowed remembering the visions of my panic attack. “I didn’t see an elevator when I was in there and I started to panic. The doors were shutting and I kept seeing a coffin… and I freaked because I thought I was being buried alive.”

He squeezed my hand, then held me close as the water works started. Brian suggested we go back to Pittsburgh and told me that maybe this trip was a bad idea and he shouldn’t have suggested it. I thought a moment on his words. While going back to the Pitts might be better on my health, it would also mea that I would die in a hospital. Even dying away from everyone I know, away from home, but with Brian by my side and living out new exciting adventures was better than dying in one of these shitty beds, miserable, lonely, scared and frail.

“No,” I said looking him in the eyes. “We started this and we’re going to finish it, even if it finishes me.”

He hesitated a minute before kissing my forehead. “Whatever you want, Sunshine.”

I stayed in the hospital for one night and I didn’t sleep. I didn’t know if it was just the unfamiliar surroundings or the fucking beep of the heart monitor, but I was wide awake.


	2. Part 2

Author Note: Because of Hurricane Katrina and the devastation it caused to New Orleans and the other locations it hit, I am skipping through the rest of Brian and Justin do The Big Easy, out of respect for the people who lost lives, homes and other things. Also because of how fond I am of New Orleans, it was too hard to write. Thank you.

* * *

A few days on the road after leaving Louisiana and we were in Las Vegas, Nevada. Brian pulled the car into the city and when we arrived on the infamous strip, I thought my eyes had bugged out of my head. I’d never seen so many neon signs or flashing lights. It was more intense than any night club or club district I’d ever been to in my life. As I gazed about in my retarded awe, I hardly noticed Brian had stopped driving.

He looked over at my dumbstruck face and put a hand on my knee, suppressing an amused laugh. I turned my gaze onto him instead of the sights of the city. A small smile was on his lips. I felt my cheeks get warm with a blush.

“Here we are, we’re staying at The Luxor just as you requested.” Brian said matter-of-factly. 

I smiled. “Is that the pyramid hotel?”

He nodded and proceeded out of the car. He came around, opening the passenger side for me. I stepped out and hugged him tightly. I wasn’t sure why but it was a spontaneous need to have his arms around me for even the briefest of moments. And he was happy to oblige me. 

When we entered the hotel, Brian went straight to check us in at the desk. I wandered around like a toddler, exploring my surroundings. I admired the Egyptian themed artwork, statues and décor. My meandering exploration lead me right into the casino portion of the hotel. I stopped in front of one of those gigantic slot machines. Reaching into my pocket, I dropped in a couple quarters just to kill some time while Brian was busy at the reception desk.

I watched all the little pictures fly passed me like they were racing cars, after I pulled down the big lever. I quickly decided not to watch it anymore to prevent dizziness and nausea.

No sooner than I’d looked away, a siren on the machine began to ring, bringing my attention back. I immediately panicked thinking I’d broken it or I’d done something illegal. The clanking of coins into the slot below the machine distracted me from the siren. Okay, I’ve never been to a casino before or played a slot machine. How was I suppose to know what was going on? Before I could even react, Brian was there with his hand on my shoulder.

“Holy shit Sunshine,” He said in disbelief. “You just won… the jackpot!”

Do you know what happens when you win a four million dollar jackpot in Vegas? They stick you in the best suite the hotel has. In this case, it was a suite in the pyramid shaped building, bigger than the loft and I could swear bigger than my mom’s place. I gave Brian a satisfied glance, before exploring the suite further.

Brian flopped onto the bed and got comfortable to sleep. I came over and sat down beside him when I finished my exploring. He opened one eye and looked at me as I began to stroke his hair, a silly habit that I can’t seem to get myself out of. He closed his eye and let out a deep contented moan.

“Maybe winning that money was a sign.”

He looked at me. “A sign?”

“That better things are on the horizon…” 

He was silent as his only response. However, his eyes told me something was lurking in his head, that same fear and sadness came through those hazel eyes of his. The same look I always saw when we talked about me being sick. When we talked about the end of my life. Immediately, I felt like an asshole.

“I don’t know what to say about that Justin.” He began. “I know you’re terminally ill. I know I’m going to watch you die. I know that one day I’m going to wake up without you next to me.”

The tears brimming in his eyes were on the verge of spilling out to leave saline rivers down his pale cheeks. In these few weeks we’d been out on the road, he’d been mastering the art of keeping the tears at bay. He was bringing back the unfeeling façade he’d so long ago left behind. The one he had when I walked into his life, the one I’d forced him to realize was a fallacy. Like a lone soldier defending his base from enemy infiltration, it was only a matter of time before the battle was lost. And all I could do was watch like I was sitting at a horror movie, and the woman is running up the stairs when she should be going outside… you know the killer will trap her. The cause is lost. There’s nothing you can do.

Right now I’d give anything to prevent inevitability. 

“I just… I want hope.” I said quicker than I meant to. “It’s been so long since I’ve had any hope that I’ve forgotten what it’s like. I always used to believe no matter what I’d ultimately get through and now…”

And as if it were a cue, I proceeded into an emotional break down of my own. He took me in his arms as I began to sob. My tears we’re uninhibited. He just held me as the tears soaked his shirt, he rubbed my back, just telling me to let it out. Like him, I’d mostly kept it in. I hadn’t released my real, deep feelings on my current condition. I’d let everyone think I had a handle on it. 

“Maybe we should go back.” Brian said softly.

“No.” I said.

He swallowed. “I was so selfish. I did this because I needed you to myself. I just wanted to spend time with you away from your mother and Debbie fussing. I wanted some time where no one bothered me with my reputation. Where you and I could be just… you and I.”

“I need this trip too Brian.” I assured him.

“But can you handle it?”

“I’m not dead yet.”

 

After a nap we both needed, we were escorted by our suddenly assigned personal lackey, to one of the restaurants. But after we were seated, I decided I’d rather go to one of the infamous Vegas buffets. So Brian walked me to the waiting limousine that our lackey called for us. 

This wasn’t just your average limo. No, this thing was like a moving mansion. Brian had a fine brandy as we drove, and I tried a sip of it. I’m not one for brandy apparently because I almost threw up as Brian laughed at me. And since the medication they have me on don’t go well with alcohol anyway, I helped myself to some hundred dollar sparkling water.

When we got there, the driver opened the door and we got out. We walked into the building and he took my hand. We were seated away from most of the other patrons of the restaurant in a swank private seating area. I smiled at Brian, knowing that the special treatment came from the limo that we had arrived in. And Brian was loving every minute of it.

“I was born to be treated like this, Sunshine.” He said as the waiter filled our water glasses and took drink orders. He ordered brandy again. I ordered coke.

“I’ve never been in limo before.” I said.

“But what about prom? Didn’t you and Daphne go in style? I’m sure you’re mother would have sprung for the event.” He said as if for some reason I was seventeen again and he was mocking my country club upbringing.

“No, we took her car.” I said with a “fuck you” smile.

He flicked me off and headed toward the food. I got up and followed, having to jog a bit since he’s got obnoxiously long legs and had a head start on me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much food in my entire life except at the grocery store. Banquet table length buffet lines with almost anything you could possibly think of on them. From salad bars to dessert tables, meats, fruits, you name it. I didn’t even know where to start. Brian grabbed a salad to start, and I went with fruit.

“No salad for Sunshine?” He mocked my defiance of meal order.

“I’m not a damn rabbit.” I grinned.

In retrospect, I ate more than I probably should of. My stomach was full past the comfortable level, but there are times like this when you only pay 15.99 for all you can eat, that you try things you’ve never tried just because it’s more cost effective. I ate lobster and crab legs for the first time in my life. Wasn’t much for the crab but I did enjoy the lobster. Brian told me that was weird. I stuck my tongue out at him, ever the mature one.

We arrived back at the hotel and Brian took some cash off to the high stakes poker table with the lackey. I wondered around, never being one for card games in casinos and meandered the different slot machines. Having a short attention span, I was never at one long and lost about six bucks before making my way to see how Brian was fairing. He was deeply involved.

Brian Kinney has the best body language when he’s deep in concentration. His eyes were keenly peering at all the other players, checking to see who’s poker face was faltering. His face, was calm, cool and expressionless. His left hand was up, resting on his chin, with his index finger extended the length of the left side of his face. His right hand held his cards that he glanced at with every card the dealer placed on the table.

“Brian.” I said.

No response.

“Brian.” I said a little louder.

“Hmm?” He managed after a pause.

“I’m going up to the suite.” 

No response again. This was annoying.

“And then I’m going to get a hooker, kill her in the bathtub and sell her kidneys on the black market for profits I will use to buy out the Columbian drug cartel.”

He nodded, his eyes never straying from the table. “Have fun.”

 

It was about three am when Brian finally stumbled into the suite. He woke me and I imagined he was intoxicated when outside it sounded like he was engaging in and epic battle with the door. My suspicion was confirmed when he finally defeated the vile door and I heard him stumble in, struggle with his Prada boots and dumb them on the table of all places. I woke up completely when I felt his weight on the mattress, and rolled over to look at him.

“Hey Sunshine,” he slurred at me.

“How much did you lose?” I assumed he was this sloshed because he lost everything I’d won, or more.

He laughed his intoxicated laugh. “I won another three million!”

“You’re kidding.” I said in surprise.

“I had to celebrate without you.”

I snuggled up to him, resting my head on his shoulder. I figured his drunken state had less to do with the money and more to do with his suppressed feelings about my current health situation. He was quiet now, having passed out into his drunk dreams. As he snored loudly into my ear, I watched him knowing that this was all his way of showing me he was scared to lose me. I knew it was just by talking to him. And when he hid his feelings, I still knew.

Now I know what you’re thinking. It’s insane that we won all that money. I know you think that I probably made this up to make my adventure sound more interesting. But I swear on my life, that this is the honest truth.

We spent the next day shopping but most of what Brian was interested in was going to sex toy stores. We went to so many that they all started to look the same to me. It was then that I came to the realization that they are in fact, all the same. We never bought anything but Brian had fun harassing me with dildos and throwing benwa balls at me. He enjoyed the all around immaturity as I pretended not to know him and considered buying handcuffs to keep him cuffed to the bed. But I realized that wasn’t exactly a punishment where Brian’s concerned.

Our next venture was to get souvenirs for everyone back home. And while Brian said we should be selfish bastards. I convinced him that it was a nice gesture to get people things and he reluctantly agreed that he should at least get something for Gus.   
For Gus he got a little kids shirt that said “Daddy’s Lucky Charm” with the words “Las Vegas Baby” on the back and a couple of Sigrfreid and Roy’s tiger stuffed animals. I got some things for Molly with pirates, from Treasure Island and a necklace with her name in hieroglyphics. I could go on and on about what we got everyone, but that’s boring so I’ll move on. After shopping Brian insisted we go back to the hotel so I could rest.

“But I’m not tired.” I whined.

He glared at me. “Point being?”

I rolled my eyes. “So why do I have to rest?”

“Because you look exhausted.” He reasoned.

I sat on the bed pouting and when I yawned I immediately lost the case, like a criminal on trial who hysterically breaks into confession on the stand. He just smirked at me in a patented I told you so look. He sat beside me and started to stroke my hair, which made me lay back on the bed. I pulled him down with me, rolling over and resting my head on his chest, making myself comfortable. Brian kept stroking my hair all the while.

“If you rest, we’ll go see the queers with the tigers.” He said.

“Sigfreid and Roy?” I laughed. 

He nodded.

“Okay… but how about we go see the Blue Man group instead? Or maybe we could go to that medieval thing at the Excalibur or see Cirque du Soleil ..”

He cut me off. “We’ll talk about it when you wake up sunshine.”

I nodded. Before I knew it I was drifting off to sleep as I listened to the steady pound of his heart.


	3. Part 3

  
Author's notes: Wow this took way too long. I promise this story will be finished soon.  


* * *

After the events in Vegas and catching Cirque du Soleil, which I felt hardly lived up to the hype but completely turned Brian on… I think he considered fucking a couple of the acrobats when the show was over, but saw I was tired and went back to the room with me instead… we loaded up the car and headed toward the Hoover Dam. We crossed over into Arizona, just over the dam, and stopped at this little tourist trap giftshop information center. Brian got out to go and pee and get a drink. I requested a coke and got out to go look at the dam.

Brian came back about five minutes later, water in one hand, a coke in the other, and walked up to me on the bridge. I smiled at him and instantly he rolled his eyes, knowing I was up to something. He followed with using his head to motion toward the car. I just smiled. 

“Watch!” I grinned.

Then I proceeded to jump onto the bridge followed by jumping back over to the soil road. He looked at me when I did like I’d lost my mind. I jumped back to the bridge.

“Nevada.” Then I jumped to the soil. “Arizona.” Then I jumped to the bridge. “Nevada!” I jumped back to the soil. “Arizona.”

After I did this for a good fifteen minutes Brian stopped me.

“I hate you!” He said monotone, before going back to the car as I trailed behind laughing.

The point of Arizona was to see the Grand Canyon and to take us to California. As we drove I bopped around the seat to some random techno as I read the brochure for the Canyon. Brian just focused on the road. We have the occasional planning word, about California and places to go and things to see, but it was mostly quiet while we drove. So I focused on reading the tourist facts.

“We can ride donkeys through the canyon.” I said with excitement.

“The only ass I’m riding today is yours.” He said.

“Ha ha…” I replied.

There’s a point when the scenery of AZ gets boring. I completely fell asleep after Brian turned off the stereo. Why? He’s a dick. And my wake up call was the jerk of him parking the Vette. I opened my eyes to the car door opening and his ass in my face. I unbuckled and got out also. He was staring off at the big canyon that you could see from the parking lot. I took his hand and hurried to the railing to stand with other tourists taking family photos and talking about how big it was.

“Well,” Brian said. “Now I know what the inside of your ass looks like.”

I scoffed. “Always about sex.”

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and rested his chin on the top of my head. I reached up and rested my hands on his forearms. He sighed a little and I smiled just enjoying this brief affectionate moment I had with him.

“Do you want to ride a donkey?” It was his concession voice. 

I shook my head. “Nope. Let’s stand here and watch the sunset over the canyon.”

So that’s what we did.

We got in the car after the sun went down and drove for a few hours. Finally, we pulled into a truck stop diner some where in the middle of nowhere. Brian groaned about it but we were both too hungry to chance continuing to drive. So his protest was minor. Which was surprising to say the least.

I could tell he was holding back snark as the door opened and twelve bearish men with cracks hanging out of their pants were planted on stools at the counter. And the fact that the song “On the Road Again” was playing made even me roll my eyes. It was one of those diners you didn’t think actually existed in anything but movies. But here we were, at the end of the world.

We sat in a booth and a less fabulous version of Debbie came over with menus and a pot of coffee. Brian snickered and mumbled something about looking for a meal that hadn’t come fresh off the pavement behind the diner. I just laughed at him. The waitress walked off to attend to the truckers that had been staring at us since we walked in.   
“This place could use a gay man’s touch!” I grinned.

“This place could use a wrecking ball.” Brian snarked back.

He made noises of disgust while he browsed the menu. I knew he was doing it to be obnoxious about his pickiness. A guy like Brian is not the diner type. He does go to the Liberty diner back home but his justification is that he went there before he became the best faggot he could be. So he goes out of habit. Brian Kinney is not the truck stop diner type.

Debbie minus fabulous waitress came back holding her pad and pen while smacking her gum. Her nametag was slightly askew and her hair net was coming off with each jaw smack. There were grease stains on her apron and her socks were two different colors. One was white the other was blue. I don’t know why I recorded this information. I just thought that it was interesting. 

Brian didn’t look up so that he could order first so I looked at Mable the waitress. She stared me down as she smacked her gum with vacant eyes that told me she would rather be anywhere else at the moment than this fucking ridiculous diner.

“I will have a grilled cheese, fries and a coke.” I ordered and as I did, from the corner of my eye I saw Brian mouth the words as I said them.

She took my menu and looked at Brian. He handed off his menu and said same for me. He doesn’t eat grilled cheese. She walked off as Brian took the 70s style pitcher and poured himself a cup of coffee, took a sip, winced and reached for a packet of sugar.

“It’s cute that you know my order.” I said.

He just shrugged and watched me continue to make architectural wonders with the containers of cream.

“Look Bri! The Leaning Tower of Creama!” I smirked.

He responded by stealing one and dumping the cream into his coffee. I laughed and he smiled one of his half smiles. I noticed some of the truckers hadn’t stopped staring at us yet. I did a very Brian move and leaned across the table and kissed him. He kissed me back without hesitation.

We filled up with gas before hitting the road after eating our fill of mediocre food. Just over the border into California we stopped at a little motel with a Spanish speaking staff. This is when I learned that Brian Kinney is fluent in Spanish. It’s amazing the things that you learn. As we settled in the room, I watched him brush his teeth.

“Our trips almost over.” I said. “First LA then San Fran… then back to the Pitts.”

“How are you feeling?” He asked, still looking in the mirror.

“Great!” For the first time in months, I wasn’t lying.

He smiled. “Grab that bag…” 

I complied and he started to riffle through it. He pulled out a big envelope and handed it to me. I opened it and looked through it. He grabbed a piece of paper and handed to me. Online flight confirmation code from San Francisco. I looked at the paper and then at him.

“I figured we’d go to Italy. Spend as long as you want there. A week, a month, a year….” He said.

“Until you make the trip home alone?” I asked. 

He pulled me close and said nothing. I held him as he wrapped his arms around me. “Whatever you want Sunshine. Whatever you want.”


	4. Part 4

  
Author's notes: I apologize for how long this is taking. I'm a student and I get so distracted by homework and friends and my relationship. Anyway, I had it finished but lost a big chunk. Here's some more until i recover the rest. Hopefully it will be done before fall semester. Thank you for the patiences and the kind reviews.  


* * *

Santa Monica pier. We hit it by early evening and walked around a bit, along he pier, seeing the sites. We skipped the rides because we were starving and headed to a restaurant at the end of the pier, over looking the ocean. I knew instantly it was a seafood restaurant because of just plain common sense. We sat in a booth by a window that gave us as view to die for. The closest lighthouse scanned the waves with it's beacon of light. The full moon made the water sparkle with a peaceful glistening. The windows were open and the warm sea breeze filled the air.   
  
Brian cracked open his menu. "Mmm.. we should get escargot."   
  
"How about… escarno." I said.  
  
"I hate you."  
  
I opened my menu and looked at it. Steak. Chicken. Escargot, yuck! Pizza. Fish. Pasta. I wanted something I new. I wanted a culinary adventure. I wanted something that if I tried to order it in the Pitts they'd look at me like I'd lost my mind. I needed shark. A fillet of freshly caught Tiger shark meat served with choice of baked potato, green beans, house salad or French fries.   
  
"I'm getting shark!" I exclaimed.  
  
"You're going to eat Jaws." Brian replied, uninterested.  
  
"It's tiger shark, not Jaws. Jaws was a great white and they're an endangered species." I corrected him.  
  
He shrugged, completely uninterested in my know it all bullshit, then put down his menu. I watched him put it down. The waiter came and he ordered a bottle of wine. A bottle of Ferrari Carano chardonnay to be exact. I knew he was going to have fish also, but he didn't tell me what kind. I just sat and watched him look out at the ocean. He was abnormally quiet. He drank from his water glass and took a piece of bread from the basket that the waiter put on the table. I took some too and smeared it with butter.   
  
"I'm surprised you're not a cholesterol patient." He said, watching me.  
  
"I'm surprised you're not a blood pressure patient with your stress level." I said, biting into my bread.  
  
He shrugged. "I get my recommended dose of cardio."  
  
I rolled my eyes. It's always about sex.  
  
The waiter brought the wine and I ordered my shark. To my surprise Brian ordered it also. He smirked at me and handed off his menu. I shook my head.  
  
"What's with eating what I eat?" I asked.  
  
"I like shark. I've had it before." He replied, smugly.  
  
"When?"  
  
"Before you were born."  
  
Shark tastes a lot like fish steak. It's got a flavor almost like beef, but it has the texture of fish. And it was basically delicious. Brian watched me inhale it as if I'd never eaten before. He was really amused by it.  
  
After dinner we drove into Beverly Hills and got comfortable in our suite at the Beverly Hills hotel. Brian unpacked and stripped down to his undies. I sat on the bed enjoying the view. Of Brian. In his undies. In case that wasn't obvious.   
  
"I think I'll get a massage tomorrow." He said.  
  
"We should go hit the spa."  
  
He smiled and sat down with me. I got on my knees and scooted over to get closer to him, resting my hands on his shoulders. Slowly I started to work on them with a kneeding motion. His head tilted forward and I smiled. I felt him relax against my touch as I worked lower along his back. He moaned a little. It was actually really cute. Just as the moment got perfect, my hand cramped up into one of the spasms that would forever be my plague. I yanked my hands away quickly.  
  
"You okay?" He asked, a bit surprised.  
  
"Cramp." I replied.  
  
He reached over and took my hand in his. Gently he started to massage it. I smiled fighting tears. He kissed me softly and put his other hand up to mess my hair, which he told me was at a perfect length since I'd let it grow out to a shaggy length. I grinned a little and I felt the tears retreat back to where they came from. I knew this hand was a minor moment and I wasn't going to let it ruin the night for us.  
  
"We have plenty of time here in LA. I was thinking tomorrow we could hit the spa, recoup from the trip so far. Then maybe shop a little, have a good meal. Then kick around another day or two before heading off to San Francisco."   
  
I nodded to Brian, curling up against him. His chest was warm and I instantly relaxed into it. It was almost as if our bodies were fusing together to make one pulsing entity of heat. I felt him pull the blankets of the bed up around us, like they were a protective armor. And in that moment, that one perfect moment of closeness, I fell into sleep.  
  
Brian was up early. When he came into the room I could smell that he'd taken advantage of the hotel's gym. I also smelled the aroma of coffee. I sat up to see him setting out breakfast that came from room service. Belgian waffles, with whipped cream and strawberries, fresh orange juice, a couple omelets… it was perfect. I yawned loudly so that he knew I was awake. He looked over at me.  
  
"Eat. Our reservations are at 10." He made a disgusted face. "I stink."  
  
I grinned and kissed him before digging into my meal.  
  
After a massage by a professional, during which I fell asleep, a facial, a mud bath, a manicure and a pedicure, Brian and rounded out our spa day in the sauna.


	5. Part 5

We hit Rodeo drive all refreshed and pretty from the morning at the spa. Brian of course was not going to let me get through the trip without this detour. I grumbled figuring I might as well let him do something he'd like. After all, he was taking his time and money and sanity to do this trip for me. I could handle a couple hours of shopping.  
  
Four hours. That's right; four, horrible, boring hours of Brian shopping. Prada, Gucci, Armani, Dior, Vuitton…and those were just the names I recognized. Each store he tried on at least twenty things. My brain was melting and spilling out my ears. I sat in chairs and stared at dressing room doors, looked at art replicas and made my hand into the shape of a gun to place at my temple. This was hell.  
  
"Brian? Have you even bought anything yet?" I whined.  
  
"Sunshine, selecting the right clothes is a very important part of a gay man's job. Didn't I tell you I was going to make you the best homosexual you could be?" Was his reply from the dressing room.   
  
"I don't need designer clothes for that. I'm good with Old Navy." I said, taking out my cell phone to play games.  
  
I smirked when I heard the sound of Brian making vomiting sounds at my comment and the shocked faces of the snooty women who worked in the store. I guess I wasn't getting anymore champagne. Yeah, you get a flute of champagne when you start shopping. Rich people are so spoiled.  
  
After the fourth hour and only like four purchases I'd had enough. I wasn't going to sit there anymore and watch this ridiculous behavior.  
  
"You do know we're going to Italy right? So buying this stuff here is stupid because you'll get the latest at the hub of fashion…" I knew that'd get him.  
  
It did. We went back to the hotel and we had sex. All. Night. Long.   
  
The second day in LA started with breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Brian forced me to eat something other than Belgian waffles. I ordered some complicated omelet that turned out to be nothing more than ham and cheese. I people-watched as rich socialites came in with their Louis Vuitton bags that looked like unnecessarily large purses, but upon closer inspection actual was the home of a toy dog. The dogs, would usually match the owners designer dude and always had a Tiffany collar.   
  
After breakfast, Brian and I went to Venice Beach. This place was so not Brian. But the artistic boho atmosphere was exactly my taste. Fuck, Rodeo drive. This is where I want to be. We walked the streets amongst people with dreadlocks that probably smelled like hell, and murals on the walls and fire escapes. The giant Jim Morrison caught my attention as well as the Starry Night across from a place where I bought a Mexican poncho just to say I had one. I'd always wanted one. We watched street performers pretend to be robots, juggle fire and do magic, rap and stand up comedy and building sand sculptures. The entire place was art. Living, breathing art.   
  
"I'm getting a tattoo." I said.   
  
Brian stared at me like I just told him the grass was purple.  
  
"I am!" I smiled as I went into a tattoo parlor.   
  
We were met by three big bears playing video games in the lobby of the parlor. Each one was covered in tattoos in every exposed and probably unexposed piece of skin. Brian's discovered was almost tangible. A queen moment to rival Emmett was just around the corner. But I didn't care.  
  
"You're getting hepatitis." Brian said, looking a little disgusted at the leather couch he was about to sit on.  
  
"No, it's sterile." I corrected.  
  
The artist, Pepito, who wasn't Mexican, told me to tell him what I wanted to get. I thought a second as I looked through his portfolio of work. He had don a bunch of different writing tattoos in various styles and types of writing from calligraphy to prepubescent teenage girl. I smiled at Brian and looked back to Pepito.  
  
"This is usually a chick spot I know, but I want it on my lower back just above my ass… the words Property of Brian Kinney. In like… typewriter stamp look."  
  
Brian snorted. "You're not getting that."  
  
"Wanna bet?" I replied looking satisfied.


End file.
